Artsdiscourse

By: Mbata Lawrence I plead for my dear country Nigeria; For our green is fading and our white stained with blood. The giant eagle has refused to fly; its wings have seized to flap. Their plead to lead have become more than a nightmare. I wish for Moses to lead that we may have roses rather than thorns that causes this bleed. They took turns to loot; Blowing their trumpets, they saw us their puppets. We've been served blemish as dish; Little wonder we stool at the digest of this. Our mother land has become a murder ground, Where we mope and wear faces that frown. Every town is wailing and all I see are hearts failing. My Nigeria is fading, with hope I wish for peace to awaken. Drunk in hatred they kill more than a hundred; That's the headline each day I mope at the mirror. I go to sleep today to wake up tomorrow; I close my eyes to pray for Nigeria.

The day I swore an oath was a holiday. And it was witnessed by multitude. They stayed in their homes while I swore in their presence. They closed the markets to be at the venue. They know not if I lied. They are curious of the truth. For years, words of my oath binds me. For a day, ceremony of my oath lasted.

Since it was you who gave us a clear picture. Tell it to our offspring that we were conquerors. Tell them, how we rebuilt abandoned gates, and how we marched without fear. We were not afraid of death! Because We do not live to die, we actually die to live.

This is my house The shelter of lions The abode of sheep. Built with mud, Raised with stone, My house endures. Each room is a trap Each door is dangerous Each window is egocentric To whom do I complain? My house is divided My corridor is in ruin; My neighbours are helpless My people are clueless My words are useless. Lion prey on sheep Sheep hunt themselves; You’ll know my house when you see it. Who’ll tame you? Lion! Who’ll rescue you? Sheep! Who’ll end the brawl?. Look at my house Standing on the precipice Marching backward, gazing forward.

Behind your camera   You saw us   At the heart of your lens   We are imprisoned Our nudity, our ensemble   Our demeanour, our charisma   Our physiognomy, our nerd   Immortalized by you Time will change   Moments will pass   We will exist   As objects of immortality Are we the products of art? Or the producers? Or objects of possession? Are we   models or prisoners ? Photo credit: Foto Afrik 

How I long to be As wise as you! How I desire to be  As logical as you! You are the encyclopedia of history The dictionary of the universe The thesaurus of the earth Sixteen cowries, sixteen pillars Sixteen eulogies, a template Hidden in your sight? Nothing Requests? Answered Difficulties? Solved I have listened to your panegyrics I have seen the horizons of your wisdom I have seen your compassion I am in awe of you.

My beloved house has treated me thus It has led me on the back of the wheels Ocean from my eyes Farewell, I bid. They exist in my head The slaughtering, killing, butchering, Murder. Heads assembled on the mattress Wrappers, west Scarfs, east Breast, dangled. Ahead is a lion Behind is a crocodile Where do I go? Where do I stay? There is no home Just a space to occupy For today I exist Tomorrow I know not.

We are the first born of men We are the model of culture We are the power of the future We were subjugated Tortured, beaten, degraded Devalued, denigrated, starved. Alien cultures imprisoned us White complexions enslaved us We denied not our etymology Away from home Stripped of ancestral elements We became embodiments of culture. Firmly, we held to our creed; "Black is not a colour. It's an attitude A mindset, a way of life." We are Africa.